Dizzy on Dreams
by anticlimatickid
Summary: A collection of one-shot Bechloe AUs.
1. Alone Together

A/N: I've got a ton of one shot ideas which I've decided to collate into one big story altogether. I've basically got one whole page of notes of ideas so yea. I'd probably write sequels or chapter-fics based on any of these one-shots but for now I have zero time so more one shots? Another shameless call for reviews and shoutout for my tumblr (anticlimatickid)

\+ "Do you got room for one more troubled soul?"

 **-x-**

Beca constantly finds herself stumbling out of clubs after her gigs. She's used to the lifestyle – not one she had hoped for when she said she wanted to make music, but DJing and playing her mixes in clubs pays well so she doesn't complain. But going around mashing songs just doesn't add up to what she'd always looked forward to when she thought life after she moved to LA. She may be the hottest DJ in town, but she still crashes from the high of the crowd after, because she's not _making_ music and this leaves her empty every night.

Another rejection sits on her phone screen as she starts the engine of her car. It's doesn't bring tears or disappointment like the first time she sees the same formatted response, but it does spark frustration. Beca feels her insides twist and clench as she grits her teeth, her knuckles turning white against the leather as her grip tightens.

 **-x-**

Speeding down the highway doesn't help, and she hears the friction between wheels against the road as she slams the breaks, cursing when she sees a hint of a human being in front of her.

"It's fine if you have a death wish," Beca grunts as she steps out of the four-wheel, "but it'd be nice if you kept me out of it." She looks around the barren road before noticing the redhead standing well and unscratched in front of her, her eyes standing out in the dark.

"I was trying to hitch a ride," the girl answers, snapping Beca out of her trance and shifting her gaze in embarrassment. She sees tear stains across the ginger's face and purses her lips to keep herself from saying something sarcastic to rub salt to the wound before nodding and sticking a thumb back at her vehicle.

The corners of the girl's lips lift, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes, and Beca tries her best to ignore how the sight of that makes her uncomfortable and bothered.

 **-x-**

"Where to?" she asks, a few miles down the road.

"Anywhere you'd take me," and a shrug of her shoulders are all Beca gets in response. So she just keeps her feet on the gas pedal till she runs out of track and is forced to make a turn out.

"Can I turn on the radio?" she hears her newly picked up passenger ask. Beca doesn't mind the radio normally, but tonight's different. Tonight, music reminds her of the dream she hasn't quite achieved after so long and her unworthiness, so Beca says no.

She hears the ginger humming to David Guetta a few minutes after, and she tries to hide the smile spreading across her face by pressing her lips tight against each other.

 **-x-**

"Ginger," Beca calls as she navigates the vehicle out of the gas station.

"I've got a name," the stranger protests, but its met with a force grabbing the notebook out of her hands and a grunt of "and I've got a need named privacy." But it doesn't stop the ginger from singing the rest of the lyrics she'd seen and repeating the ones she'd sung before, and Beca doesn't mind, at least not as much as before, because it sounds better than the voice she's had in her head when she'd written it down.

"Chloe," a word foreign to the lyrics she'd jotted down, "that's my name." Beca nods in understanding that the girl was introducing herself, not singing, though it sounded like melody to her ears. She'd been fine not knowing, really, but still, the DJ finds herself repeating the name in her head countless times throughout the drive.

 **-x-**

"Stop the car!" Chloe screeches, and Beca halts, just in time for the redhead to fling herself out of the vehicle, a can of beer they'd picked up at the gas station in hand. Beca takes that as a cue for her part as her chauffeur to end, but the door on her side swings open and she feels cool fingers finding her own and another palm slamming against her as she is pulled out of her car.

"The sun's about to rise," she can feel the redhead's breath, a gust of hot air wet against her ear lobe as she leans in to whisper before climbing onto the roof of the four-wheel and tugging Beca after her.

Beca doesn't enjoy body contact, but she doesn't complain when Chloe rests the weight on her shoulder as they watch the sunrise. The rays hurts her eyes, but it makes Chloe's shine so much brighter. Those irises are still dull, as eyelids loom over them, but captivating all the same. The peaceful silence settling over the two who carries stories they aren't quite ready to share just yet, lulls the red head to sleep.

Beca doesn't feel the need to cry over rejections, not anymore, so she finds herself comfortable with wiping away the disappointment of others. Maybe, just maybe, Beca thinks, as she rubs a thumb over the tear stains on the redhead's cheek, that this stallion has room for just one more troubled soul.


	2. Carousel

A/N: A carnival AU that doesn't quite have a definite ending, but you can tell they end up together, just leaving everything up to your imaginations, because things are better left unsaid, right? ;) shameless shoutout to my tumblr (anticlimatickid) again! Please say hi or leave a review!

 **-x-**

The carnival lights are blurry in the dark, but the atmosphere is warm and cosy as the place is littered with loving couples, families and friends. Children's laughter feel the air as they run over puddles drying from the downpour earlier. Amongst the happiness, Beca sticks out like a sore thumb as she ushers visitors in line into the ride, her face straight and rid of any expression. Her eyes scream annoyance as she lets a co-worker take over her shift.

Having found herself rid of duties, the brunette loiters the stone pavements as she waits for her next shift, enjoying the dying hype as the night grows and the crowd diminishes. She doesn't appreciate the cheesy arcade music in the background and the giggles erupting around her, but she does, however, find another lone ranger seated by the fountain with her back bent over.

It was out of character, but Beca takes pity on her, seeing how alone she seemed amongst the smiling faces of couples around her. She knows how it feels, not that she minds being alone, but she knows that not everyone enjoys solitude like she does, so she heads over and presses the soda she had been drinking against the cheek of the redhead.

"Wha-" the girl shoots up immediately at the touch of the cool aluminium, shocked at the contact. Her eyes land on the figure before her after she recovers from her initial shock, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

But Beca doesn't answer her unvoiced questions, instead she sits beside her and takes a sip, tipping the can towards the ginger like a microphone, a silent notion to ask her if she wants to talk. A small smile plays along the ginger's lips, it's kind of sad, the brunette notices, but she doesn't point that out. Instead, she just nods, urging the other on.

"Aubrey, my friend, agreed to come out with me tonight," she starts, and Beca takes another sip. "But she cancelled last minute because she has an essay to finish."

"I know it's stupid to get upset over this but, it makes me feel dispensable, you know?" Beca doesn't know how to answer, she should nod, except Beca doesn't have friends, let alone friends that ditch her for homework, so she has no clue what to say.

That's exactly what she plans to tell the other girl, but the sadness in those light blue eyes twist Beca's train of thoughts and she ends up asking, "which ride's your favorite?"

 **-x-**

It's well over closing hours by now, but the light in the ginger's eyes roots Beca's feet where they are as she sends her on another round on the carousel, the other girl's squeals of excitement a reason to stay.

They don't stop till the girl she's come to learn is named Chloe feels better, which was 30 seconds before the power went out and the horse mannequins on poles slowed to a stop at the lack of electricity to fuel their movements.

-x-

"Climb over?" Chloe laughs in the face of the locked gates and Beca's answer, except the brunette was already halfway up the grills, and that's when the taller girl gets that she wasn't joking.

"Really? I'm wearing heels!" she exclaims as the midget lifts one leg over the top of the railing. The only answer she provides is an extension of her arms as she offers to help Chloe up the scale. The ginger doesn't really have any other choice, and her palms meet relatively cool ones as she struggles to scale the gates. She succeeds merely from the bull strength hauling her upwards, but Chloe still feels proud for having done something she's never succeeded with, in heels nonetheless.

She doesn't have time to recover though, as Beca jumps off the ledge and cocks an eyebrow at her, beckoning her to do the same, and Chloe finds herself in a bundle of nervous giggles again.

 **-x-**

"I'll catch you," it's the second time the brunette has spoken that night, this time with outstretched arms, ready for the ginger's weight.

Chloe doesn't have a choice, so she shuts her eyes and pushes herself off, half-expecting the cold hard concrete to meet her flesh. But it doesn't, and she feels arms curl around her, letting her down after cushioning her fall.

It takes Chloe quite a while to recover, and even longer to notice that Beca had long waved her goodbye and was heading down the street, away. It may have only been a few hours and two sentences, but the ginger finds herself wanting to see the brunette once more, for reasons unknown.

That's how one Chloe Beale finds herself at the carnival every night after, and why a certain Beca Mitchell offers to man the carousel for every shift.


	3. Fourth of July

A/N: Prompted by lyrics from FOB's Fourth of July. It was supposed to be angsty and sad, but I had an ending hanging around my mind so yea. Because the remnants of burnt out fireworks are still flammable, so there's still a chance. This is kind of long enough to be a standalone, but I'll be putting this here since it's kind of AUish too so YEA. Leave reviews! Or just say hi, it'd motivate me and make me very very happy

 **-x-**

\+ "fireworks that went off too soon."

There's a spark, there always was, when Chloe's fingers meet her skin. It sends her heart beating faster than it's supposed to. It makes the tips of her lips swing upwards, though she often tries to hide it by biting her lips. Chloe's soprano harmonizing to any track Beca plays when she's studying in the brunette's room is heavenly, almost a soundtrack to the DJ's dreams.

It becomes natural, the ginger rummaging through the stash of snacks under her bed halfway through a movie, she's stopped complaining after the fourth time it happens. The redhead's company is constant, and it's simple but comforting. Raps spilling from the shower brings chuckles out of the brunette's throat.

She doesn't remember when she became numb to that feeling. She doesn't address it, but she knows Chloe feels the same, because her eyes don't shine like they used to when they meet gazes halfway through another film Beca is forced to watch. Chloe's fingers don't intertwine with hers halfway through anymore.

They're still the same, except it the atmosphere is dry, and silence isn't comforting anymore. For once, Beca finds herself wishing for some sort of conversation instead of dry air hovering around them. It doesn't happen, and the routine carries on as if it's normal.

She shakes her head when Chloe asks her "what's wrong" during dinner, a lit candle in between their gazes. She doesn't want to admit that they've burned out, and were out of oxygen. She doesn't want to admit the best thing that's happened in her lifespan dead. So she avoids voicing it out, and she can see Chloe is doing the same too.

The ginger's voice no longer fills the stale air. Beats no longer bounce off the apartment. Everything in the space in tight and empty, and its inhabitants are struggling to find something, anything that would light them up again.

They don't. They face away into dreamless sleeps at night, the sheets seems to cover more than a few inches in the space between the two. They don't remember when they last shared a blanket, as two different colored quilts now spread evenly across the king sized bed.

Beca doesn't wake to Beyonce anymore, instead she gets up to stale coffee and cold breakfast, which she swallows before heading out to work. Chloe doesn't wake to warm arms around her waists anymore, instead she gets up by preparing breakfast, eating alone at the dining table while the other portion sits in front of her as company.

 **-x-**

The brunette gets frustrated when her assistant serves her sweetened coffee. And she groans when the sugared caffeine hits her tongue. The first thought that came to mind was how Chloe would know she how she liked her coffee, black. It never occurs to her, however, that the coffee she drinks every morning still tastes the same as when it was served heated, that Chloe still remembers. She pegs it on the fact that Chloe was probably in a rush and didn't have time to serve anything other than black coffee.

Instead she writes, and produces, each note after the other, spelling out the past she barely remembers. It doesn't feel right when some renowned artiste sings those songs, it doesn't carry the turmoil inside of her, the need she feels to remember, to light up again. So she offers the artiste some other song from her folder and they agree eagerly. Beca's words end up dead flat on paper, unsung, unheard.

Chloe drives, and the radio isn't on. It hasn't been on for a long time, and there's an itch in her chords, she longs to sing. So she does, in the confinement and privacy of her car, she belts with the voice Beca longs to hear again. The stereo in the vehicle bursts to life once more, and the announcement of another nomination for some other award registers into the redhead's mind. She doesn't overwhelm with excitement and pride, like the first time she hears Beca's songs on the radio, instead she patiently waits for the next song to come on.

Another one of the brunette's productions is played, and it's an old single. Chloe smiles, because she knows the words to this one. How could she not? She had been the voice used for the demo. It sounds different, hearing someone else's voice singing the words she'd once held so close to her, as she whispers to Beca that she knows the DJ will make it big one day.

 **-x-**

Beca doesn't come home one night, and the double bed is empty. The dining table carries dinner for her other half, as she lulls herself to sleep with red wine and TV. It's cold, and Chloe shivers as her eyelids grow heavier. This time, she does dream. She dreams of Beca's smile and the many mashups she'd received in the mixtapes Beca used to make for her.

She wakes up alone, the apartment untouched, but she still makes breakfast for two, because she'd long forgotten the portion for one. She still boils a double shot espresso, unsweetened before she leaves. The brunette stumbles, in ten minutes after Chloe leaves, a short time span, but just enough to miss the ginger.

This is the first time in a long while since breakfast is warm against her tongue, and Beca tastes scrambled eggs seasoned with just the right amount of black pepper and salt, and bacon crisp and salty against her teeth. The coffee is bitter, and scalding. This is enough to start a spark.

 **-x-**

She scrambles to her studio, working on a mashup that would be close enough to deliver what she'd meant to say. But she doesn't find the right words and it throws her into frustration. Nothing's enough to convey what is boiling inside her. So she takes it upon herself to sing.

It's foreign, the feeling of standing behind the microphone. It's been a long time since she'd last sung, and the vibration in her throat as melodies tumble out is enough to get her lost in the world of performing once more. She grins, the adrenaline of being on stage with the Bellas, being on stage beside Chloe, washes over her, filling her with the feeling she'd long forgotten, and hadn't realized she need.

That night she speeds home, ignoring the shouts of her manager down the hallway, reminding her of the gig she was supposed to play later that night. "Cancel it," she had shouted before dashing down to the parking lot.

 **-x-**

She plugs the thumbdrive into the sound system and plays it, Titanium streaming out first. The sudden beat tumbling from the system makes Chloe, who was in the midst of cooking, jump.

"Hey," Beca whispers, snaking her arms around the ginger from the back. It's a gesture that's foreign to the two now, and Chloe tenses under the touch. The DJ feels the muscles stiffen on her skin, and she sees for the first time, what the two of them had really become. It takes all of her courage to rest her head on the other woman's shoulder once more, nuzzling into the neck.

"Hey," the vibration of her voicebox is warm against the tip of Beca's nose, this sensation makes the brunette smile into the ginger's neck as she inhales. She drums her fingers against the other woman's hips as the song reaches its bridge, and she's overwhelmed when Chloe sings along.

Her voice hasn't changed, it still sounds the same as the voice that rings in her head when she writes. She feels Chloe's elbow against her rib as she serves dinner, just when the song slows to an end. A grin spreads across her face, but she soon cringes as her own voice fills the room.

She winces, but she forgets about how awful her voice sounds to her right now when she sees Chloe's eyes light up, the shade of blue as bright as it used to be.

That night, Chloe's fingers find hers, and her arms are back to where they belong. Both don't pay attention to the plot on the big screen, and they're back to where they started. It's old, but Beca doesn't mind. Because the silence that hangs in the air soothes her, and the gig she'd left behind would never compare to the fire burning inside her now.


End file.
